For a Lack of a Better Name
by ENGLISH-Y
Summary: What if Anon didn't die when he saved Quorra? And if Abraxas came back, and knew.    Post Legacy     Abraxas x Anon     Slight Anon x Quorra     Tronzler x Sam      Yeah, summary suckage.
1. Alive?

Disclaimer: don't own Tron, and all its branches, yadda yadda yadda yadda.

So, I defeated the game TRON: Evolution, got wicked pissed at the ending, decided that I was so unhappy, I'd go as far as making this. BRINGING EVERYONE BACK FROM THE DEAD.

AHA. AHAHA.

Yay. Zombie programs and stuff.

I'm on a roll today.

Main pairing: Abraxas x Anon

Side: Slight Anon x Quorra and Tronzler x Sam

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><p>Alive…?<p>

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><p><em>Everything was going, and he could hear CLU's voice in the background screaming at him. Abraxas had fallen, the virus was gone. Anon turned his head and picked up the fallen Quorra, turning to see the Recognizers falling and crashing.<em>

_It was the only way out in this entire maze, wasn't it? It was for Quorra. It was for Flynn. It was for the fallen brothers, Tron and Gibson. Anon quickly made sure that the ISO was secured over his shoulders, watching the building quickly collapse._

_And he ran._

_There was a split moment when he was airborne, grasping onto the Recognizer, catching Quorra on her way down. The building fell. Was it truly the end of the Abraxas virus? Anon could only hope as he watched the structure go down._

_Within moments, he too, with Quorra were swirling down into the Outlands. The crash was a miracle that he wasn't crushed right away. But when he hit the hard ground, it wasn't too long before the metal beast was on top of him._

_He remembered seeing Quorra wake up. She was alive? Good. Maybe Flynn could find her. Anon felt himself smile on the inside, watching as his hand dissolved, his lights dimming. How he wished he could say how he would miss her._

_Rebooting…_

_Reboot at 32%..._

_45%..._

_94%..._

_Reboot complete._

_Activate Security Monitor Program._

_Name: Anonymous_

_Function: Unknown_

If Anon were a User, he'd gasp and arch his back, but he had no lun…

Wait.

The Program bolted upright, staring down at his hands. Where was the black? He saw his circuits, but where was his clad clothing? He continued to look himself over, his circuits were all still there. He grabbed his head.

Hair.

Hair?

No!

Anon felt his body, feeling only the circuits and User skin, like Flynn's. He was based off of a User? He had a body? This entire time, he thought he was only metal, a program. Anon went to get and stopped.

He was alive? He was still functional? He felt the Recognizer crash on him, he knew he had been derezzed. How was it possible? Was Flynn there?

Anon felt his face to find a mouth, trying to open it and scream out for help. No words though. He was still a mute. For a moment there, he had hoped he'd be able to voice opinions with words, like how Gibson did, or Quorra.

Quorra. Anon remembered her. Her beautiful blue eyes and her gentle smile. Her weird-ass cropped hair-cut that Anon always wanted to play with and braid. Anon liked Quorra, he missed her. Was she okay? Did Flynn find her?

It was now that Anon started to take in his surroundings. He was in an old room; that seemed all too familiar to him. But yet, it was if it were only a lie. The Basic tried to take it all in, trying hard to focus on the room rather than the fresh images in his head from the battle with Abraxas.

That's when he once more realized, that there was no possible way for him to get up from the dead and make his way to a safe room. Someone had to have put him here. Flynn? It had to be Flynn.

Anon flung his legs out, jumping at the sight of toes. When did he have toes? Toes, such a strange thing on a User. The Basic wiggled them around, feeling the corners of his lips rise into a small smile. He never knew he had toes before, always boots.

Finally, pulling himself back, the program stood, wobbling a bit and falling down. Maybe he hadn't fully recharged yet, and he need more time? Anon quietly grabbed the corner of what seemed to be a desk of some sort and lifted himself up, using it as support. And when Anon thought he was free of distractions, he was captured by another.

It was… him? His reflection? A narrow jaw with full lips, _green_ eyes and a messy head of blonde-brown hair. What? He had a face? But he was always a helmet. A reflective helmet! This was impossible!

Anon lifted one hand, touching his face, spotting some of his glowing circuits, following them down to his sternum which is where they disappeared beneath a baggy black shirt, and popped back at his feet after a pair of… pants…

These could not be pants. They clung to him like his normal uniform, but they were blue-ish in colour and they wrinkled. He felt so… User-like. Anon shook his head as he gripped the wall and made his way out of the room, following a fairly long, light-blue lit hallway.

The program paused for a moment, looking around the corner and spotting a familiar blue glow. Blue eyes, black hair. A small mark on the bicep.

Quorra.

Anon almost felt the joy overwhelm him as he tried to walk to her, only to fall down. Quorra noticed him and rushed to his side.

"Hey there Monitor," she smiled as she helped the program up and brought him over to the couch, gently placing him down and handing him a bright blue drink. "Drink this," she said with a smile, her blue eyes glimmering. "It'll help with your recharge."

Anon took the drink in one hand and gently touched Quorra's cheek. She's alive. She found Flynn. Flynn!

Anon shoved the liquid down his throat and stood up, beginning to look for Flynn. Where was he? He had to be here if Quorra was here! He had to be!

"He's dead, Monitor," Anon heard the ISO whisper behind him. The program turned, and locked gazes. "Kevin Flynn… died. He died while stopping CLU. But his legacy is still living. His son, Sam Flynn, he's here with us now. Everything is better."

Anon looked at her and walked up to her, his body higher than hers by the slightest.

"Flynn's gone," she whispered, her face soon buried in the baggy shirt. One of Anon's hands reached up and gently patted her lop-sided hair, twirling it between his fingers. He could play with it. He was able to do this now… And yet, she… she was sad. They stood there for a few moments before Quorra raised her head and looked up Anon.

"Would you like your normal clothes back?" she asked softly, Anon nodding in response. "Sorry. Sam had to take them off because the circuit spots were broken a-and… I can't believe you're alive Monitor… You saved my life. I know that if you ever meed to be saved, I will do whatever it takes to save your life too."

Anon smiled down to Quorra, gently kissing her forehead, a small spark appearing as the ISO giggled softly and helped remove the baggy clothing and put on his normal black-clad uniform, without the helmet. That made Anon feel so much better. These were his own clothes, with the circuit holster fixed of course.

The Basic pointed to his head, as if asking for his helmet.

"That, we don't have," Quorra sighed softly. "We lost it in the crash, Tron might be—"

Anon quickly grabbed Quorra's shoulders and looked at her in the eyes. Tron was alive too? He was still here? His eyes were the ones bombarding her with all these questions.

"I forgot… you didn't know…" she sighed. "You've been asleep for over 20 years, Monitor. Here… just, sit down. I'll explain everything to you."

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><p>First chapter wooo~ I feel AWESOME.<p>

Just an intro. Abraxas won't come into the equation until later broski's.

-E-Y


	2. War Story

Disclaimer: I don't know if I have to put these in every chapter, but let it be known that I do not own TRON and its branches.

Second chapter.

I'm literally writing this as chapter 1 is being uploaded bro. I'm just wSAFGDTSFD

TRON SOUNDTRACKS MAN. Jeff Bridges' voice. IS. SEXY.

Yeah.

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><p>War Story<p>

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><p>Anon was placed onto the couch again, a new and full glass of the blue drink. He was told to sip it and not chug it down, in fear that it might make him more tired than he was. Quorra placed herself in the chair across the couch, making sure the blue fire was going.<p>

"It was after the Purge, after Radia was killed," Quorra began. "That everything changed. You saw what happened, what CLU became. He became a monster, killing all ISO's and all Basics that opposed him.

"He made himself ruler, calling Flynn, our Creator a liar. A fool, he didn't know what power was, so they shunned Flynn. But Flynn found me after the crash we had, brought be in to be his apprentice. We watched the portal close to the User world, so Flynn was stuck here. On the Grid."

So Flynn did find her, this was Flynn's house. That made Anon feel a bit better about his duties, and that he didn't die(or almost die) for no reason.

"He taught me everything about the User world, and books! Books are amazing Monitor, you'll have to read them!" she almost got side-tracked before the Basic gave her a weary look. She cleared her throat and nodded.

"But I had decided to go off, into the Outlands by myself, to see if I could find anything to help build something for Flynn, when I came across the remnants of the crash. I had not expected to see an identity disk just laying there.

"When I picked it up, I wasn't it expecting it to be yours. When I brought it back to Flynn, I gave it to him and he said he'd be able to try and bring you back. But it took him the most of this 20 years for you to finally regenerate.

"You did die, Monitor," she whispered sadly. "But Flynn brought you back. And you're here now, he even gave you a face and fingers and toes, like the User's have to update you. To the new technology.

"After that, we just waited. Flynn told me about his son and how he missed him. And Tron, Tron was gone to us, we didn't know what happened. We could only watch as CLU took over the Grid. Taking over every single sector.

"Then Sam came, the son of Flynn. He came, the portal was opened and we could get back! All of us! But, in the midst of all this, Flynn was lost, taking CLU with him. Sam and I went back into the User world, and took over Flynn's company there. But we still come back here every once in a while to make sure that the Grid is still going.

"That's when we found Tron, Sam taking him in and caring for him. It's amazing to see some of Tron's old files. He's so old! Older than the Grid!" Quorra seemed to almost laugh at what she had said, Anon smiling along with her. There was a few moments of Quorra just giggling before it turned out into a full blown laughter, Anon's shoulders shaking, his face laughing, but no noises coming out.

"I hope we didn't come into a bizarre girl-talk session," an unfamiliar voice hit Anon's ears as he turned around to see a young man with blonde hair and Flynn's face. Must be Sam. Then a body came out from behind him, which made Anon leap to his feet and near tackle the man next to Sam. Tron.

The older program staggered a bit, patting Anon's back. "Hey there Program," Tron said with a smile. "I see you've gotten a bit more of a spark since I last saw you. I also noticed you took care of the girl who was asking for trouble. Thank you for that." Anon looked up at Tron before gripping another hug from him. Tron, to say the least, was not exactly expecting something like this to happen if Anon woke up. A soft chuckle came out of his throat, instantly getting a dark, envious glare from Sam.

"Alright, alright, Program, turn around so I can look at your identity disk," Tron sighed as Anon did so, images and binary codes and words appearing out of the disk. "Your name is Anonymous? Anon, I assume, to shorten that mouth-full. Quorra here has been calling you Monitor, so I assume you don't mind either." Anon nodded, smiling over at Quorra. She was so beautiful. Always seemed to gleam brightly. There was a strange whirring noise before Tron grunted.

"Damn, you don't have a vocal processor. Sam, think you could find me something I could toy with so I can give Anon here a voice?" Tron looked up at Sam who seemed to be giving him a stubborn glance. "Please," Tron frowned as the young Flynn walked off.

"We may not be able to fix your vocals Anon," Tron frowned, searching through the rest of the disk. "You may be a mute forever, but I can fix your helmet… I know how you would wear that thing no matter what."

There was a few moments of pause before Anon felt a slight shock go through him, his helmet materializing over his head. He gently touched it, feeling so much more secure. He turned back to Tron and nodded gently, his circuits flashing blue a bit.

"You're welcome, Anon," he smiled softly. Same soon came back with a small box and handed it to Tron.

"I need to head back to the portal," Sam began staring over at Anon. "Join me? You should probably see this place since it's been over a lifetime since you've seen it."

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><p>Wooo.<p>

Done.

-E-Y


	3. City Limits

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Weeee!

I just. Can't eve. I drew Anon/Monitor today. And played the final Abraxas battle, and spotted something strange.

If Quorra is about 5' 8" with heels, that makes Anon about 6' right?

During the final battle with Abraxas, Anon's head only reaches about Abraxas' waist line.

What the fuck.

I had to pause the game to fathom it, started playing again and just stopped it.

Here I thought that I wouldn't uke-size Anon. MOTHER FUCKER IS ALREADY UKE SIZED WITH ABRAXAS. WHY DIDN'T I SEE THIS BEFORE?

Gibson = Dean Winchester.

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><p>City Limits<p>

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><p>"Welcome to the Grid, Anon," Sam smiled as he led the program into the city, walking fairly quickly to beat the time that the portal had left. "All of CLU's follower's are gone and it's mostly peaceful now. You still get the occasional rebellious programs who like to tool around at night that explode some things. Any questions?"<p>

Anon turned and frowned at Sam, not enjoying that last comment he made.

"Right," Sam coughed nervously. "Bad topic. And Quorra told me about the virus, and Bostrum still has left over spots, but they've been blocked off from the rest of the city."

The was a soft whirr from Anon as he tried to keep up with Sam, getting a few glances from the other Basics walking around. Did he look old? The fashions from when he first entered hadn't changed, but there were no ISO's. It hit Anon hard, his feet slowing down to look at the blue, green, white, and red lights. He missed the all-white walking around, the strange symbols on their arms…

The sound of Radia's voice.

Anon was snapped out of his nostalgic daze as Sam's hand tapped down on the program's shoulder.

"Come on, we don't have much time, and I don't want Alan to try to figure out how to work the touchscreen," Sam joked, leading Anon the rest of the way.

It was so… strange. There were no ISO's, and it almost felt empty. There was a part of Anon that felt empty, broken. He felt broken.

The first stop was to a solar sailer, stepping onto it and just waiting on the top. Sam seemed impatient, walking back and forth, tapping his foot and glancing over at Anon.

"I keep wanting to ask you question, but I know you can't answer them," Sam grumbled, as Anon shrugged his shoulder. "Like, what were the ISO's like? I've only ever known Quorra… but you knew them. Quorra told me about Radia and Jalen."

Anon flinched at that name. It wasn't Jalen anymore… he was Abraxas. But Abraxas… he died. And so did the virus. There was no such thing as either of them.

"Jalen is evil?" Sam asked, noticing the flinch. Anon looked up and nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. Jalen himself, wasn't evil, per se. He was good when he was Jalen, then turned bad when the infection got him. It was slightly confusing, but Anon wasn't able to explain it to Sam. Though he wished he could. If Sam knew more, he'd be able to ask less questions.

Gibson asked a lot of questions. They always made Monitor feel awkward though, only because Gibson would respond to them himself. Did the Basic not know how to wait for a response at any point? Gibson was fun, Anon liked him.

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><p>"<em>Just take the shot!"<em>

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><p>Anon shook his head, the solar sailer finally reaching the end of the track, the portal still open.<p>

"Alright! We made it in time!" Sam turned back. "Take the Sailer back to Quorra and Tron, I need to go into my world for a bit to check up on things, okay?" Anon near scoffed, his arms making a sort of 'why'd you bring me here then' motion. "Hey, I said I was going to show you the city," Sam smirked. "Let's see if you can find your way back now to the Outlands, yeah? See you in a few cycles!"

Sam stepped into the beam of light, held up his identity disk, and disappeared. Within seconds, the portal was gone. Anon shook his head and turned around, starting to head back to the solar sailer. Would he be able to find his way back? The Program didn't know himself as he looked at the controls for the vehicle.

What. What were these? Had the technology advanced that much in the past years? Anon paused for a few moments, staring down at the command screen before pressing a few of the buttons, the machine moving at an extremely slow pace. Well, this wasn't going to help Anon in any sort of way. The program buzzed in annoyance as he smashed his fist down angrily at the screen, it flickering and going out before the machine stopped and then sped off on the beam of light.

Anon was going to die. He took over 20 years to become alive again, and he was going to die. A second time. Who gets to say that? Derezolution for a second time, alright! What's there to cheer about? It took a lot less time to reach the start than it did the finish, Anon's body being flung into the air like a rag doll and hitting the ground with a painful THUD.

His helmet broke, derezzing off his head, his new strange face returning to sight. The Program shuddered, staying down for a few moments, his lights flashing dimly. He hated falling. Anon now officially hated to fall.

Taking a few breaths, Anon slowly sat up, staring at the sailer. Well, Sam was going to kill him. He broke the only transportation to the portal. Getting up, Anon staggered, frowning when his helmet would come back. He'd have to get Tron to fix it again. Shifting to lean against the wall, Anon reached for his disk.

Nothing. He tried to feel over his back for it. Gone. Where was his disk? A sudden rush of panic flushed through him as he looked through the rubble of the sailer, not finding it at all. Was it at the portal? If it was there, Sam would be able to find it and there wouldn't be too much of a problem. Anon needed to head back to Flynn's house.

The Program began to run off, trying to find his way back to the hide-out, but it obviously wasn't working. He was somewhere between Sector Fuck and Sector Holy Fuck where am I. Anon looked around. Should he back trace his steps? Should he call for help? What would calling do, he couldn't speak.

Anon quickly ran down one of the alleyways, soon hit by a large force which caused him to topple over and roll backwards, his light growing even dimmer. He was soon lifted by his collar and brought to eye level with a figure that was much taller than seven feet.

"Hello Monitor," a raspy voice cooed and buzzed next to Anon's ear, his body suddenly freezing.

"You miss me?"

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><p>LOL zombie Abraxas.<p>

I find it funny I like this pairing more than I like Gibson. And Gibson is Dean Winchester stuck in the grid, I mean honestly.

Yep. Dunno when 4 will be up. Homecoming, marching band, competition and a college visit in the next three days. WOO.


	4. ID

So, just got back from the marching band competition. We got first place in our division with a total score of 82.7. That's 82 POINT SEVEN. Ha, NESBA. Three points away form a gold man. So close. But still first place.

So, here's chapter four.

Now we get a little bit of the main pairing.

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><p>ID<p>

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><p>It wasn't very comfortable having both of your feet stuck, knees pressed together and hands high above your head. And Anon did not enjoy it one bit. He wasn't used to this. He was used to being thrown off of things and <em>falling<em>. This was not helping on bit.

Anon looked up and stared around for a bit, frowning at the unfamiliar location. Waking up in a strange place again? How riveting.

Wait. How'd he get here? Anon felt himself begin to panic more, looking around and beginning to struggle. The program tried to relay what had happened.

He went with Sam to the portal, got lost on the way back, lost his Identity Disk somewhere in there, and…

Anon heard heavy footsteps walk up to his 'cage'. A yellow-fingered, black clad hand gently lifted his face. He was met with the disgusting familiar black and yellow helmet, the leather cloak. Yellow veins shifted through the entire body. The helmet lifted up to about a nose, revealing a deep, grotesque scarred face.

The hand trailed down to Anon's throat, holding it gingerly.

"Say it," the mouth moved. Black tongue, yellow veins there too. "Say it." The voice was low, electronic, dark and filled with hatred.

Anon swallowed, opening his mouth.

"Abraxas," Anon whispered, his eyes widening. He could talk? It was high pitched, extremely weak and computerized. The hand moved away from his throat, Anon opening his mouth again to speak, but nothing came out.

"You could have given into the virus, _Monitor_," Abraxas sneered, his voice growling. "You could have had a voice." The hand moved back, lifting the small face with one finger. "Perhaps I will have use for you. You could be the one to help bring me back."

Anon ripped his face away from the yellow fingers, and refused to look back up. Heavy boots caught the programs eyes. And a small blue key. I had to be the key to get him out of here. It had to be.

"Where's your disk Monitor?" Abraxas's lips formed a straight line, grabbing the program's chin harshly and forcing him to look at the virus. There was another low growl that came from the extremely large virus. "WHERE. IS. YOUR. DISK," the voice boomed, shaking Anon's circuits to the core.

A hand painfully grabbed the smaller program's neck, soft whimpers and shrieks coming out from Anon's mouth. A voice. It was a voice.

"I-I lost it!" his voice cracked, the hand coming off his throat, but the other one staying on his chin, the grip growing stronger.

"You _LOST_ it?" Abraxas snarled, letting go of Anon's face and quickly holding his own disk to the other's cheek. There were a few moments of silence between the two, the disk being retracted, and the large body walking off.

"I'll deal with you later," was all that was said, before the footsteps disappeared. Anon put his head down. He had a voice. Abraxas gave him a voice when Tron couldn't.

He could speak.

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><p>"Weren't Sam and Monitor supposed to back millicycles ago?" Tron asked, his mind stuck on Sam and images of CLU hurting him haunting his mind. Tron felt himself begin to pace back and forth. He should have gone with them. They all should have gone together. Then they wouldn't have to deal with this problem of neither Sam or Monitor missing.<p>

Quorra quietly looked up from _Around The World in Eighty Days_, her brow furrowing. "Time moves differently from the Grid to the User World, Tron," she began reassuringly. "And Monitor is probably just waiting for Sam to get back at the portal dock. You need to calm down."

Tron shook her head, still pacing. "The last time I let a Flynn out of my sight… bad things happened," Tron whispered, shaking the images out of his head. Just when Tron thought the worst to come, Sam slowly made his way up form the elevator.

"Hey guys, sorry it took so long," Sam smiled, being met by a smothering, possessive hug from Tron.

"Next time you go anywhere where I'm not going to leave your side," Tron said, his hug becoming tighter. Sam looked over at Quorra and she smiled softly.

"He thought you and Monitor were going to disappear or get hurt again," she said softly. "Speaking of which, where is Monitor?"

Sam managed to pry Tron off of his body. "I thought he came back? I found his disk and a broken sailer, and thought that he got hurt and found you guys?"

Quorra's eyes widened. "He's not with you either?" Quorra threw the book to the ground before running over to Sam and snatching the disk from him, examining it closely, and opening it up. The last images were of the crash, and him running off, as if to try to find it. How'd he miss the disk? The images went on, a small flash of yellow went by before it went dark.

Yellow.

Quorra's eyes widened. "We need to find Monitor," she whimpered, staring back at Tron. "Abraxas is back."

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><p>Lol, I love TronzlerxSam. Trying so hard not to make that the main focus. They'll have pop-up scenes. But yeaaahh, Abraxas is back mother fuckkaaa'ss.<p>

I don't even.

Har.

Short chapter I know. I have time contraints.

-E-Y


	5. Almost and Circuitry

Disclaimer: I don't own TRON or any of its branches.

It's been a while since I've done an update. Been busy with marching band stuff, but it's all over at the end of next week. Woooo~ I'll be able to feel my legs again.

So here's some update.

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><p>Almost and Circuitry<p>

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><p><em>Booting up…<em>

Anon's eyes fluttered open, only to stare down at his feet. The image of feet and toes still scrambling his mind. He half expected to wake up to Quorra's perfect face. To wake up to her big, beautiful blue eyes and funky hair. But, Anon would get no perfect good morning, from coming off of stand-by, for the images in his mind were quickly run through.

The program lifted his head sharply, looking around him. The room was dark. He didn't remember it to be this dark. His hands were still captured above his head by some form of contraption that Anon was not used to.

But it was when he looked back down did something capture his eye. A small scratch of yellow on his thigh circuit; already starting to slowly bleed its way into the blue—the very start of it being a deep and disgusting purple-black. Abraxas was already trying to infect him.

The constraints snapped as Anon fell to the ground painfully, hitting his knees fairly hard. The program stood up as he looked around. How was that possible? Did the constraints have some form of time limit on them? Anon shook his head as looked around. He still felt naked without his helmet. He wanted his helmet back.

Staying low, Anon walked around, wincing from the shock that came from the small scratch on his thigh. Crawling over to the door Anon backed himself against the door, looking around. Across the way, he spotted a guard across the way. Reaching back, Anon felt his brow furrow then raise. Disk still wasn't there. Of course, how could he think anything less than that?

Anon stood up, walking over towards the guard, Anon snatched his disk off his back, the guard quickly turning around only to be greeted by the disk's harsh edge, derezzing the guard within seconds. Anon grabbed the helmet, watching was the body crumbled into nothing beneath him. Well, at least this gave him a helmet and a temporary weapon.

Attaching the disk to him, Anon slipped the helmet on, his mouth still showing through. It'd have to be good enough for now. Not his helmet, but it was still a helmet. Anon stepped out of the door, everything seemed clear… so far. The program stepped out, beginning to sprint towards the maze of an unknown location from him.

Left, right, right, left, straight, left. Anon didn't know where he was going. He was hoping he'd be able to at least find a map, but that didn't seem to be happening. Stopping, Anon looked around him, spotting a guard. But of course, the guard managed to spot the Program before Anon spotted him.

The alarm went off, an obnoxious loud beeping echoing around them. Grabbing the disc, Anon sent it flying towards the guard, shattering him as the disc came back. This wasn't good. Anon winced harshly as he fell down onto one leg, looking down to his circuit. The purple was getting larger. It was disgusting.

Forcing himself back up, Anon pushed forward, going to the panel where the guard stood. …this panel made no sense. Damned, he needed Tron with him. He'd know what to do. Or Quorra, she'd be able to hack this thing in seconds.

What Anon didn't notice was the black and yellow figure appearing the reflection of the panel. A hand snatched Anon around the waist, a long, pointed finger digging deep into the already made wound, as another arm wrapped around the Program's neck.

"Trying to escape Monitor?" the thick and dark voice echoed into Anon's ear. Anon felt a scream erupt his throat, sounding like an explosion coming out of a dying program. Abraxas's finger dug deeper into Anon's thigh circuit, another finger ripping through his sternum.

"Well?" Abraxas hummed deeper, his fingers scraping and scratching. Anon's eyesight faltered, drifting into darkness. It wasn't until fingers pressed against lightly against Anon's circuits, causing a throaty gasp to escape from the Program's exposed mouth.

"Were you trying to escape my pet?" Abraxas whispered harsher. "Speak this time… I know you've dreamed of a voice."

"Y-yes," Anon squawked out, his voice so strange to his own ears. "L-let me go…"

"No." Abraxas sneered against Anon's helmet, reaching down to the Program's neck, his own helmet lifting up, biting down harshly on the blue circuit, the purple and yellow showing up there. Anon let out another scream, his voice heaving, his chest shaking.

"Will you escape again?" the larger program whispered.

There came silence, Anon's head falling limp as his shoulders shook. There came a few seconds before most of his circuits flashing yellow, his head lifting back up, his head twisting to face Abraxas.

"Only if you'll let me…" Anon smiled softly.

* * *

><p>I'm a liar. So marching band did end, then I got sucked into college stuff, then I got sucked into drama because a kid dropped out, then I got sucked into doing costume and set design for our Winter Percussion, and then I went to Disney, and now I have pain in my jaw because of my wisdom teeth, or lack there off.<p>

But here is a small chapter, yes small, sorry. I'll try to have robot sex be the next one, or more of the trio. Dunno yet.

Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone who is American, if not; lol happy normal day.

-E-Y.


	6. Infected

Disclaimer: Nyyeeeeehhhhh.

Okay, so I've been bad. Been having lots of ups and downs and schedule changes and mishaps and what nots. Best side, though, is that I'm going to college. 100% acceptance. Fuck yes.

And thank you to Pseudoku for giving the finest review I have ever gotten on a fanfiction, ever. I think I squealed at the end of it I was so grateful.

I enjoy reviews like that.

So, here is the new chapter.

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><p>Infected<p>

* * *

><p>Quorra watched Sam pace. The pacing reminded her of when Flynn was thinking of CLU, about how to get back to the User world. He was beginning to look like his father. Even Tron was noticing the sudden frustration in Sam's steps.<p>

They had already begun their search around the Grid, looking in the places that the disk last recorded. But they had nothing. Just the flash of yellow. And only Quorra really knew the dangers of fighting the virus. Tron knew very little of it, and what he could remember was most likely faulty.

The ISO held the disc close to her. It was the only thing that would bring her to the mute. They had reached the eleventh district and finally stopped for a few minutes.

"He's probably dead," Sam said. He was beginning to give up. How could he give up like that? Quorra stomped her foot down.

"How could you say such a thing?" she exclaimed, clinging tighter to the identity disk as if it were her life line. Sam shook his head.

"Listen," Sam began, glaring over at Quorra, obviously not pleased with the whole search going on. "It's been too long; we've searched for hours, hell I need to get back to the portal. I don't want us to end up like Dad, alright? He's gone Quorra. The only thing we have is a disk and a flash of yellow, nothing else. No witnesses and no leads. I'm tired, alright?"

Quorra shook her head and held the disk to Tron who took it hesitantly. She stared back at Sam before walking up to him and smacking her hand across his cheek, harshly and suddenly.

"We are finding him! We can page Alan if need be, but we are finding Anon and I don't care about your excuse of be tired!" Sam has never seen a woman so enraged. "If you think that 'being tired' is going to persuade me that Monitor is gone, you're wrong. If you even say that again, I will tear your entire apartment apart and watch it burn. We are finding him."

Both Tron and Sam stood there in shock, the fire and volcano's in Quorra's eyes burning holes into them. Sam audibly gulped. That was positively horrifying. Sam just quietly nodded before Quorra snatched the disk back from Tron.

Tron was the first to break the silence, by clearing his throat some.

"You know more then us," he said softly. "Where would Abraxas hide…?"

Quorra paced for a moment, now beginning to look like Flynn herself. But what else would you expect from the Creator's apprentice? Where would Abraxas hide? He never really hid before did he? He just disappeared and wherever he went he would infect.

Perhaps he stayed in ruins. Yes. The building that was once the purge. Where ISO's lived peacefully. CLU never removed the ruins. They still lay there, destroyed and wanting to be removed so that the souls of the ISO's may finally rest in peace.

"Follow me," Quorra said softly, beginning to walk, Tron following her and Sam hesitating. He needed to get to the portal. Tron looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with Sam, slowing down and reaching his hand back. Sam looked around before jogging up to Tron and taking his hand.

Surprisingly it had to take a hand from Tron to follow the ISO who actually knew what she was doing.

* * *

><p>It was fire on his circuits. Fire. Pain. Searing electricity. Anon couldn't find himself to find the proper amount of adjectives and nouns to describe the amount of pleasured monstrosities that were happening to him.<p>

Claws pressed against his circuits, daring to dig into them and scrape them as they once had before. But they were teasing, torturing.

Abraxas knew the breaking point of Anon, and he was no where near the half way mark. Of course, the virus knew, and was purposely toying around with the small program.

And soon enough, more scraped were added to Anon's circuits. Three more on his legs, two on his chest, another few on his back. Anon took it as pleasure, Abraxas took it as revenge. This was no foreplay to him.

The black and yellow hand grabbed the thin chin, ripping the helmet off of Anon's face and holding it harshly. Yellow and blue flickered in the programs eyes. Flickering, and still deciding between the virus and life.

"Why haven't you given in yet?" Abraxas snarl, digging his free hand into the small circle upon Anon's chest. The program screamed. Howled. There was that pain. That ripping sensation.

"Quorra," was Anon's only response. Abraxas snarled before taking his thumb, starting from the base of Anon's eye, digging it in and dragging it down. Deep.

Anon let out a blood curdling scream as he reached up and gripped onto Abraxas's wrists. The virus didn't let go. His thumb clawed through the program's perfectly designed skin and caused it to pixelate and derezz.

The program continually attempted to pull Abraxas's hand away, and finally managed to get the thumb's pressure off a small amount, but it just dug right back in.

Anon continued to scream, his circuits flashing between yellow, blue, and white; his body unsure of what exactly was going on.

The virus ripped his hand away, watching the small program curl up into himself, letting out soft whimpers of pain and shuddering.

"When did you become such a weakling?" Abraxas snarled, grabbing Anon's shoulder and pushing him onto his stomach, derezzing the most of the back of his suit to see the flickering circuits beneath.

"You once brought me down," he didn't stop, dragging his finger down the program's back as he let out a hefty gasp. "And now you're just as weak as them; weaker, even."

Abraxas stared down at the beautiful design of the program's back circuits, pressing down on a few of them just to watch Anon squirm. A beautiful sight indeed. Letting go of the program's back, the virus began to walk off, leaving the flickering, whining, in pain program to himself.

"Where is the power that once defeated me?" Abraxas snarled, looking over his shoulder as Anon met his gaze. The virus smirked and tapped his own cheek, a matching scar that was gained from the final battle.

Anon opened his mouth to say something, nothing escaping. He wanted to say 'No!' He wanted to scream it 'NO! STOP!' But he just watched the virus leave. The door clicked behind the larger male, and Anon was alone.

He forgot how silence broke through barriers of fear and rage, only to heighten one and kill the other. A black hole that began to suck anyone in its path into a land where there were no boundaries to what the eyes could see. Trickery.

Come back, he wanted to say. Don't leave me alone in the silence.

But silence broke through, and screams and voices crept in. He could hear them. Hear them all. The ISO's. Flynn. Tron. Quorra.

It was the virus screwing with his mind. The virus, he kept saying. The virus. It wasn't his fault. It was the virus.

And no he too, was part of it all. Glowing yellow, sparks flying and monstrosities in his mind. How could he miss out on this power? How did he not know? Why did people fight against it? Intoxicating.

* * *

><p>"You expect us to find him in that?" Sam asked as he looked at the broad amount of rubble. "You honestly expect to find anything in that? Hell! I would just look in places that were right under our nose. Like the End of Line Club, a company building, the Games, the grocery store…"<p>

Tron put a hand over Sam's mouth when Quorra turned around and glared at the User. She moved back to the rubble, kneeling down and putting a hand on it. They would have been in this. Her and Anon… and CLU. He could have died. And then the new system wouldn't have been the nightmare it was.

"He's here somewhere," Quorra frowned. "Start looking. And no complaints."

* * *

><p>Aggghhh. Apologies. Madness for the entire month. Wanna know the proof that I was busy? Go to youtube and type in 'North Middlesex Winter Percussion Medusa'. First link. That was about 2 ½ weeks ago. That was me. All my. All those designs? Me. Costumes are still being fixed. That was our first competition, we had our second last Saturday and the costumes were changed, as some of the drill and the music.<p>

But, everything is almost done, so I have time. Hopefully. Some of the pillars broke last Saturday.

Also, I'm no 18. Yay. I can legally buy scratch tickets.

Sorry this one is kinda of short. Blegh.

Thanks for putting up with me.

- E-Y


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